The Saint of Dragons

St. George The Elder

SIMON COULD NOT YELL. He was in a panic, with no air in his lungs. The horseman's face was nearly all covered in a long black scarf, and his great black trench coat was fanning out from the wind, like giant black wings.

 Simon clung to his back, afraid of falling. In that quick moment, Simon felt a strange flash of fear that the horseman was the hideous creature he had seen crossing the street—a creature with a long snaky tail. But now the horseman's scarf fell down from his face, and Simon could see it was the shabby man who claimed to be his father. 

For some reason, this made Simon feel better. 

Suddenly, he heard sounds up ahead. Shouting. In the grayness near the cliff, he could see three men rushing at the horse. 

The horseman drew a long sword, heading for the first man, who may have held a gun. It was hard to tell. 

But then, behind the three men, came another, out of the fog, who slashed at the attackers with a long wooden staff. The staff slammed into the first two men, throwing them to the ground. Then the man with the staff attacked the gunman, knocking loose his weapon. 

It was the old lighthouse keeper, there, in the thick of the battle, brandishing his long walking cane! The old man was holding back the three attackers! Simon gaped in surprise as the horse galloped past the fight.

 "Go!" the old man shouted. 

The horse galloped into the safety of the fog shroud. Gone into the night.

 When Simon finally found himself able to breathe and speak more than a whisper, he was a long, long way from the Lighthouse School for Boys. The horseman said not a word, urging his horse on through the fog. He must have gone a very long way, because Simon did not hear any sirens, and he knew the principal would have called the police immediately.

 "Where are you taking me?" Simon managed to say.

 "Don't worry now," said the horseman comfortingly. "You'll be safe."

 That was all he said, and the horse galloped onward, down the coast, through muddy forests, empty fields, and past lifeless piers, with the dark ocean calling after them. 

Simon had no chance to yell for help. They did not go near any houses. Even if he was able to call out, Simon wasn't sure he wanted to. Once the shock wore off a bit, he started to think this was the most exciting thing that could have happened. If this was his father after all, what exactly did he have to tell Simon? 

They reached a long, empty dock. There were no buildings around, just a big sailboat that looked like it had been made a long time ago. The horse trotted over the wooden pier and stopped at the boat with a snort of exhaustion.

 "Rest now," said the man, and Simon thought he was speaking to the horse. "There's a place to sleep on board," he went on. 

"You're talking to me?" said Simon in amazement. "I can't just...I'm not going to..."

 "You know who I am," said the man. "And I'd like to stand here all night and tell you the story of my life, but it's not safe here. We've got to move on."

 He led the horse on board. Standing on the dock, Simon looked around. He could make a run for it, but he doubted he would get very far. He didn't even know which way to go; the fog had obscured everything around them.

 "Are you coming?" said the man, annoyed, and he put out his hand for Simon to take it. 

"I didn't know I had a choice," said Simon.

 "You have a choice if you want to get eaten out there" was the reply. Not sure what he meant by this, but knowing that indeed he meant it, Simon turned to look behind him. He heard a rattling in the bushes, and fearing that it was the dangerous men from the lighthouse, he reached out and took the man's hand. He was pulled aboard the ship, and they set sail.